After
by XinTheErudite
Summary: Coming back to life is hard. I unfurl like a new leaf-one delicate vein at a time. Today, I tied my own shoes. Tomorrow, I might fall in love.
1. Chapter 1

My heart sinks as soon as I see him, but then again, what was I expecting? His back is to me, and all I see is broad shoulders, a black buzz cut, and the AK-47 he's slung across his back. A military grunt. The type that has been the most resistant to people like me. The Reborn, once Dead, now Living. He is the kind whose lip curls at the sight of golden eyes like mine. In a way, I don't blame people like them. People who were once like I was tore out the throats and smashed in the heads of their wives, husbands, children, parents. I retch whenever I think too much about it. Soldiers from Security like him saw the worst of it-saw us slavering up at them from the bottom of the walls day after day.

My stomach clenches as the officer the grunt is speaking to points past him, at me. The grunt turns, and I am surprised. I expected a brutish face to match his back. Instead, he has large blue-green eyes, and the darkest eyelashes I've ever seen. He looks surprised too, and I am glad I took the pains I did today. I wanted to distance myself from my past as much as possible. I tied my hair back neatly, used some salvaged cosmetics, and wore my favorite scarf-the one with dozens of jewel-bright colors. I wanted to try and appear as human as possible. Distract from the telling color of my eyes. To some people, it doesn't matter that my body temperature is a normal 98.7, or that red, living blood beats through my veins and colors my cheeks and lips. The point is, I was Dead once. I once had lost my mind and myself. I once-

No. Enough. I don't bring my mind there.

"Ms. Yi." The officer motions me forward. "This is Private Evans. You will be assigned to him for this sweep." I nod at the grunt, but I feel my smile wobble. His face is set like stone. "Your assigned sector is the northeast section of Fisher Avenue, from the docks up until the Powell Building. Go into any of the buildings on either side of the street, and mark any salvage on the chart. Don't worry about bringing anything back, we'll send in teams for that later. Private Evans, you are to neutralize any skeletons you might encounter. Ms. Yi, your job is to engage with any of the Dead, assess them for signs of recovery, and initiate standard reconnection procedures. Clear?"

I nod my affirmation. The militarized jargon is a little hilarious, but no one quite knows what to call the measures we have been taking to awaken the Dead. R and Julie Grigio were the first to implement the strategies now being taken: talking to the Dead, showing them photographs, playing them music. Awakening their dulled senses. Reminding them what living is all about. For now, we are venturing out in soldier-civilian pairs. Today is my first time out. I've been healed for a year now, but this is the first time I've been able to stomach the idea of going back out into the city.

The gate groans in protest as it's opened. Private Evans swings the AK off his back. "Stay at my three o' clock" is all he says to me before we venture out. I obey him, staying a respectful couple feet from his right side, heeling like an obedient dog. I am determined not to give him any trouble. I don't want him to hate me more than he already must.


	2. Chapter 2

Our day is tedious. Evans doesn't speak to me, unless absolute necessity forces him to mutter terse commands. His stride is longer than mine, so I need to jog to keep up with him. I could say something, ask him to slow down, but I'm still determined to be as unobtrusive as possible. By midmorning, when he finally pauses to drink from his canteen and check his battered map, I am completely exhausted. I half-collapse on the graffiti-covered bench of a bus shelter. The throbbing in my feet promises massive blisters later. I tell myself that feeling pain and exhaustion is a precious, precious gift, but for the moment, perspective is short supply.

"What's going on?" I flinch and look up at the sharp question.

"Nothing." I answer him. "I'm tired. I haven't been out of the stadium in a year." I pause, weighing the cost of complaining just a tiny bit. "You…you walk really fast."

Evans says nothing, just looks at me for a moment. Then he nods and turns back towards the street. "Take five." I feel the knot in my stomach loosen a little at this consideration. I sink gratefully back against the bench. We sit in silence for a while. Evans is restless; he checks his watch, the position of the sun, the map, and the view up and down the street. His fidgeting is making me feel guilty. When my guilt finally grows greater than my urge to rest, I decide we should probably just get going. As I'm about to speak, Evans suddenly swings his gun up. Every line of his body is tense. I follow the line of his gaze. A pack of three Dead have shuffled out of a side street. I feel chills run up my spine-they've appeared so suddenly. They lurch toward us, sniffing the air. "We need to go" Evans mutters out of the side of his mouth. But adrenaline is already coursing through me.

"I had my own directive, remember?" I say. My voice shakes, and Evans snorts. "Bullshit. We're leaving."

In reply, I try to step around him, and he swings around the body of the AK to block me "Stop." He is furious. I step away from him, and ignore the command. I walk towards the Dead, who have stopped in a puzzled cluster in the middle of the street. As I draw closer, I see that there are two males and a female. It's hard to tell what age they were, but at least one of the males is short, maybe an adolescent.

"Hi." I say softly. Behind me I hear Evans curse angrily.

"Yi. Get you ass back here." In the back of my mind, I realize this is the first time he's used my name, and it's to swear at me. I make a shooing motion at him behind my back. The Dead are reacting badly to his aggression. The tallest of them snarls in Evan's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

"Heeeey." I try to make my voice as soothing as possible, but the Dead are too restless. I hear Evans move behind me. He's coming towards us; idiot that he is, he's at least not a coward. I shoo him again, frantically, behind my back. "It's okay guys. I know, Private Evans is a moron and he's making you guys sooo mad. I know. Shhhh." I'm speaking in the light, sweet tone you'd use with a child. "Private Evans is going to get us both kiiiillled" I draw the last word out into a musical note. Everything goes quiet behind me, and the Dead refocus on me. Good, finally. "Private Eeeevaaaaans needs to let me do thiiiisssss" The last note rises high, trembling in the air. The Dead blink in surprise. I smile. This is my secret talent-the reason I'm out here today. I hum a long note, quickly trying to pick a song. I know a lot. The stages I've sung them on are nothing but warped, hazy memories, but the songs stayed with me. I settle on a classic, smiling a little inwardly at the irony. "There was a time when men were kind…when their voices were soft…and their words inviting…" The Dead are still, riveted by my voice. I feel my heart constrict at the confusion in their faces. I will them to remember. "I dreamed a dream in time gone by…when hope was high and life worth living…"

As I sing, the memory surfaces: the last time I sang this song. Before. I remember people, lots of people. And lights. And armed men ringing the auditorium. Security, they said. Any gathering needed security in those days, right before the world fell apart. Little good it did. Other images come-glittering diamonds, a large woman wearing too much perfume squeezing my hand and squealing "You were really too marvelous, darling." By the time I reach "And there are storms we cannot weather" my voice is choked and I falter, unable to force the words out any longer. _What about my family?_ Why only remember useless things?

The Dead are spellbound, but I fall silent, unable to continue. My eyes are wet. The female reaches out for me, and I flinch. Her fingers go to my scarf though. She touches it, softly. I unwind it and hold it out to her. She pulls away, but her eyes remain riveted on the liquid fall of silk. She groans softly. I reach forward and drape the scarf around her shoulders. She looks at it, wide-eyed, and strokes it like you would a kitten. The other Dead gather around her, examining it. The smaller male turns back to me. He puts his hand out, and brushes his fingers against my cheek. I shiver. He's so close, and the stench of Dead flesh hangs in the air. I steel myself though, and reach out to him in return. I hear an incredulous shuffling behind me from Private Evans. I lay my hand against the Dead boy's face, so he can feel the warmth. His steel-grey eyes widen. I stay that way for a long moment, and then, slowly, back away step by step. A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I nearly shriek. "Now, we leave." Private Evans hisses. I nod. We continue to walk backwards down the street, his hand still gripping my shoulder as if he expects me to break loose. The Dead are preoccupied by the scarf's fluttering, and we are a half a block away before they realize we are leaving. They moan and shamble after us, but it's not the dogged shuffle of the hunting. This is a plaintive, tentative movement. I feel a rush of warmth fill my chest. They are on their way, I think. They're going to change.

We are followed by our little group of Dead all the way to the encampments that surround the stadium complex. Our Dead cluster together fearfully when they see how many humans and Half-Dead are milling around the gates. I smile at them.

"You guys are going to be fine." I tell them. Private Evans still hasn't said anything. I glance at him, wondering what he's thinking, but his face is impassive. We check in at the gate, and he finally turns to me.

"I have a report to deliver" he says, and disappears towards the Security headquarters. I am left standing in the street, thinking about the Dead we met today, and hoping the girl enjoys my scarf.


End file.
